<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>réalisation by Dood05</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402194">réalisation</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dood05/pseuds/Dood05'>Dood05</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Butterfly Soup (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/F, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, No Beta, Noelle-Centric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:22:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dood05/pseuds/Dood05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Noelle didn't really argue when her mother told her she was going to study in France. </p><p>One, because, well, it was her <em> mom</em>. Fighting with her tended to be a futile effort, and Noelle didn't want to go through the trouble of getting herself grounded with more college-level workbooks. Two, it's not like she was abandoning anything exciting. Noelle would feel more guilty about letting herself be pushed into a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity if she had anyone but her parents and math problems to leave behind. Three, she would've enjoyed it more than home, she figured, an abandonment of newspaper-clipped walls and high-expectations to...well, an all-expenses paid trip to Paris. </p><p>Now, though, looking at the exhausting, annoyingly recognizable girl in front her, awful windbreaker and gaudy glasses worn like a weapon, she began to rethink her decision to get on the plane in the first place.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akarsha/Noelle (Butterfly Soup), Background Diyamin, Diya/Min-seo (Butterfly Soup)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>réalisation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>French AU where Noelle goes to France as a foreign exchange student and ppkm happens. character-focused, Noelle-centric. </p><p>this is really more proof of concept than anything, depending on how this goes i might rewrite, keep this in mind before you dive in. i also am a very inexperienced writer (read: bad+new) and have no beta. so uh fuck it y'know? </p><p>that being said, I don't want to pass up an opportunity to improve here, so really give me criticism. i can't promise i'll act on it but i'll keep it in mind. here's the story now:</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the dark, Noelle stifled her laughter. </p><p> </p><p>Her bedroom was illuminated by her alarm clock, and the harsh glare of her laptop. Door shut and curtains drawn, her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, despite the noticeable strain she was putting them through. The dull hum of the machine echoed throughout the room, almost booming over the near-silent breathing and the distant crickets outside. She was tired. Her permanent eye bags seemed to exponentially multiply over the past few days, and she needed to go to sleep.</p><p> </p><p><em>W</em>as she going to? To put it crudely, <em>fuck no</em>. She spent the entire day overworking herself with overly-long chemistry questions, so she was going to spend the night however she pleased. And what she wanted right now was to watch some episodes of a kid's show, a stupid little superhero show about some teenagers in France fighting other teenagers. Cheesy one-liners and a character's inclination towards cat puns led the mood in the room to be something lighthearted, even if Noelle was purposefully trying to be quiet. </p><p> </p><p>She needed moments like this. Silent ones, happy ones, where she could relax and be herself. She knew other kids like herself, in her Asian-dominated neighborhood. Her parents were uniquely extreme, but they were also the living definition of a stereotype that wasn't too far from reality. Her school was small, but she could name at least a handful of other kids that she personally studied with who seemed to be put under the same attitude. Her mother and father encouraged it, but also warned of future betrayal and of keeping them at an arm's length. And, even though she wasn't inclined to give her parents the benefit of the doubt, she knew that they were right about these people. Noelle didn't involve herself much with others, but even with supposedly kindred spirits, she seemed ill at ease. They seemed like the right versions of Noelle, ones that didn't get angry and impatient, ones who were perfectly dutiful and orderly, ones that jealously vied for her position on exams. </p><p> </p><p>A stray thought came to her, a mental image of a snake desperately hissing for Noelle's test answers came to mind. It wasn't a joke, Noelle thought, and it certainly shouldn't be amusing to her. But all the same, she cracked out a small smile. Almost instantly, Noelle's smile quirked downward as a pang of shame ran through her. If she was laughing at that, watching a kid's cartoon should be the least of her worries. Damn her humor, and her sleep-ridden mind. After this episode she was definitely going to sleep. </p><p> </p><p>Noelle knitted her brows, forcing herself to focus on the simplistic, CGI-style animation before she could ruminate on it more. </p><p> </p><p>"Miraculous...Ladybug!" The protagonist screamed, a foreign language coming out clear through Noelle's neatly-nestled headphones. It was sort of funny, in an ironic way. She was studying for a class even in her downtime. Noelle didn't strategically pick a French cartoon in order to practice or keep up with the language (she was more of a math person, herself), but at least she had a good excuse if she ever had the courage to watch it in front of her mother. Which, likely was, never. </p><p> </p><p>As the episode end credits rolled, she took off her headphones. She shut the browser and slowly stood, her normally weak legs already twitching and letting out a dull ache in protest. Slowly and gently, she began to put her laptop back into her regular position on the desk, closing it and laying her headphones on top. Crawling into bed, she cocooned herself in a thick, thick blanket, perfectly made for cold nights. She closed her eyes, and let her mind wander, the show's happy  aura still imprinted in her mind. </p><p> </p><p>A flash of a grin. A girl at a pond. A girl with messy hair and babbling french.  She said the wrong things purposefully. Infuriating.</p><p> </p><p>She smiled, and let the memory wash over her as she fell asleep. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Clink. Clink. Clink. </p><p> </p><p>Noelle barely restrained herself from reacting to the loud clash of silverware against plate. It boomed despite the self-imposed silence of its occupants, making itself to be quickly known as something that wasn't letting up anytime soon. </p><p> </p><p>School was on Christmas break, so Noelle figured she would go ahead of the curve and start on her workbooks before she was hounded into doing them. Her parent's silent approval brought forth no criticism, and therefore, nothing to really talk about. Family dinners tended to be like this, a focused silence rather than a free atmosphere. Like clockwork, the cooking was complimented, the cook conveyed her gratitude, and they sat and ate over the uncomfortable wooden table. </p><p> </p><p>"Noelle," Her mother began, a slight smile on her face.  "Your aunt Elmira contacted me with some great news." She sounded pleased, <em>smug </em>even<em>, </em>with a tone that benefited a triumphant politician more than an overbearing housewife. </p><p> </p><p>Noelle suppressed the urge to tense up, seeing her mother's expression before hearing her words. She didn't know her aunt too well, as she lived somewhere in Europe and rarely had time to visit, but from the brief hints of memory she seemed to recount, her Aunt seemed nice, if not a bit stern. Granted, memories from a 7-year old her are a bit dubious in credibility, but this was the best Noelle had at the moment. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe this was something to look forward to. </p><p> </p><p>"A spot opened for a special student exchange program, for children who want to go into STEM field when they get older," Noelle's father stated, moving his utensils with a technical, efficient grace. "You integrate with French students, and then get assigned a mentor based on your specialization." </p><p> </p><p>Noelle hadn't recognized that she was still moving her fork while he was talking, but she was definitely conscious of it now, frozen in her tracks. She didn't miss the <em>you</em> her father started out with, but it didn't make sense. She had looked into exchange programs before, on a particularly bad night, and they all applied earlier in the fall. Plus...<em>France? Europe? </em>She needed to think first. </p><p> </p><p>"How?" Noelle asked. "It must be the middle of the year, for them. Did someone get sick?"</p><p> </p><p>"Your aunt didn't explain," her mother responded, a wide smile on her face. "Either way, it's a great opportunity. This is what you've always wanted, correct? You can get ahead in engineering, just like you've always wanted." </p><p> </p><p>Noelle repressed the urge to sigh. Springing this up on her? <em>What?</em></p><p> </p><p>"Wait. Wouldn't I be transferring in the middle of the school year? Why would the administration go through the trouble in getting another student?"<br/><br/></p><p>"Your aunt explained that it has something to do with funding, but it's an unimportant detail. The point is, you have the opportunity to be like <em>them,"</em>  Noelle's mother pointed to the general direction of her room, but Noelle got the message. Like the children in the posters her mother always clipped on her walls, the achievers. "They've all had mentors, and you <em>know </em>this program is prestigious. You will convince them of your worth in the spring so you can get accepted into the summer branch, and you'll have an impeccable resume for MIT."</p><p> </p><p>Noelle fell silent, the room slightly spinning with her. She gripped her fork tighter. "Wouldn't the factor of me being the niece of someone who works closely with the admissions process make the situation highly unethical?" </p><p> </p><p>"No," her father replied. "Aunt Elmira isn't going to be involved with admissions. She'll put in a good word, which is worth its weight in gold, but nothing that can call you unethical. She'll just send you the paperwork and the applications you need to turn in. You'll also be living with her during, but again, it's nothing that can be called unethical." </p><p> </p><p>Her mother, still insufferably pleased with herself, picked up her plate, signaling that the dinner was over. "Noelle, tomorrow we'll make a plan regarding the application process. We'll wake up early, this time, and to give you an idea for the scope, you'll ideally be finished at the end of this week, Friday." </p><p> </p><p>Her father left. Her mother took her still-substantially full plate, and casually walked off. Noelle sat on the table, still ruminating on what just happened. </p><p> </p><p>Noelle <em>fumed, </em>her hand gripping the other in a vice grip. <em>What? </em><em>Just like that? Just like that, she's getting uprooted? End of discussion? </em></p><p> </p><p>She thought of the application process, the essays she probably had to put work in, the late nights she would continue to do. Silently, she grit her teeth, imagining all that energy she had to expend and the naps she'd have to schedule in order to properly function throughout the day. If she didn't get in, she wouldn't hear the end of it, more and more workbooks and applications and extracurriculars and meaningless <em>work. </em>If she did, she'd have to adjust to jet lag and an entirely new schedule of learning while keeping the same workload, but this time with an unknown relative that her mom seemed to trust.</p><p> </p><p>The train of thought towards her aunt caused Noelle to slowly relax the grip on her hands. She consciously forced herself to calm down and thought herself to think about this more. Calmer heads should, and have prevailed before. </p><p> </p><p>She hated how her parents dominated her schedule, her life, and her choices. That's why she hated this. But France? She'd be miles away from them. All she had to do was lie to them about her activities, and continue to excel in her schoolwork. She didn't know her aunt, maybe she could be different. Maybe this whole situation could be different there. </p><p> </p><p><em>I don't even know Aunt Elmira now, </em>a treacherous voice spoke. <em>What if she's more paranoid than mom now? What if she's worse? I can't logically count on maybes. This is sta</em><em>ble. Stick to the original plan. MIT, then don't speak to your parents ever again. </em></p><p> </p><p><em>The original plan hasn't changed,</em> a brighter thought exclaimed. <em>I </em><em>might be away from them for longer, and the exchange program gives me more opportunities for scholarships later. Financial independence is still important, even in the future. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Burnout is still an issue. A big one. A long period of time with no stress relief, plus our normal schedule. Even then, what if it gets worse in France, too? </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>Burnout was an issue before. I know it's a big issue. I showed it to Mom once, before she dismissed it entirely. I </em>am <em>burning out. This is a chance to change that. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Barring a miracle, I'll still burn out in France. That's not the right way to treat burnout. I know it from the nights of research. And having massive amounts of work on my plate doesn't help either.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Noelle heard her mom call after her from the kitchen. "Noelle? Don't you have work to do?" </p><p> </p><p>Noelle stood from her place in the dining room, rising quickly. "Yes, I'll be working," She said, simply, ignoring a mutter of discontent coming from the kitchen. </p><p> </p><p>As Noelle walked off toward her room, her thoughts returned to her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Forget about burnout. I don't have a choice. This is happening. And I want this to stop. This won't get better if I stay here after failing the application.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>She stood outside her door, gripping the doorknob and slowly pushing herself inside. She turned on the lights, looking at her room, sparse of much decoration other than Mathlethe medals and Science Fair trophies. What did she have here? She had no photos of her friends, or her family. A simple window, a simple laptop, the same simple stack of books and other reading materials. What would she leave behind? She had no legacy of her own yet, and she had no siblings that she loved. She got along well at school, but she had no strong feelings for anyone there, except for an old, balding teacher she left a year ago. </p><p> </p><p>"<em>Yeah," </em>Noelle sighed out, still standing in her doorway. "<em>I don't really have a choice." </em></p><p> </p><p>Noelle sat down, and began to work.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Her parents went in with her, but when it was time to find her boarding area, they left. </p><p> </p><p>Noelle wasn't worried about her first time solo-travelling. She had everything in order, and her parents coached her on everything she needed. Noelle was always prepared, so she organized every document she needed in a folder, even adding a list and a couple of documents she memorized to herself just in case she ran into trouble. Armed with her accented, but fully functional French, she was given a certain amount of money and a direct flight to Paris, which she knew must've cost some money on the program. She passed through security, and said goodbye to her parents, who were both seemingly crying. </p><p> </p><p>A pang of pain ran through Noelle, at that moment. She didn't feel like crying, but she didn't feel relieved. Charitable feelings emerged through the surface, but Noelle stamped down the reluctant urge to get emotional, said her goodbyes, and went to an area to get some food, near the boarding areas. She was hungry, and she knew the flight would last long, so she forced herself to eat. </p><p> </p><p>Going through the airport equivalent of a convenience store, she looked for easy, quick sustenance. Sandwiches, water, etc. She looked through the aisles, ruminating silently. </p><p> </p><p>The application process was complete, and the program accepted her. Noelle still didn't know why they were looking for a replacement yet, but she would know soon after asking her mysterious Aunt Elmira. Either way, she almost had a mental breakdown in the process, even working through her scheduled naps during the days. She did it, though. Right before Winter Break ended, she got accepted to the surprising adulation of her parents, and when she returned to school, the envy of her schoolmates. She left the next week, saying her good-byes and fully knowing that she would be behind, despite the surprising speed in which she was accepted. She didn't trust her parent's claims of "nothing unethical was done", despite what they said. </p><p> </p><p>Paying for her meal, going to where she was supposed to go, eating her sandwich, going to the restroom, and <em>waiting, waiting, waiting, </em>were affairs that went by quickly. She didn't think, despite pulling out a treasured book and her earlier thoughtfulness, and after some time, her plane was ready to board. She prepared her documents, taking her carry-on suitcase with her despite the exhaustion it willed in her arms, and was able to check in with the desk with no issue. </p><p> </p><p>She boarded the plane, expectation left purposefully blank, just for this moment. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The plane ride was awful. Immigration was okay. Getting the several bags she packed was even worse than what she could've ever imagined. </p><p> </p><p>Holding her carry-on was an awful experience in its own right. Her arms were weak, emaciated, and she was tired. She didn't get enough sleep last night, easily. The plane ride didn't do them any favors either, the flight seats not granting them enough mobility in order to truly allow rest, so a rude awakening welcomed her as she went to grab her small suitcase by herself. Immigration was a new beast, and despite the speed she traveled through, it still left her drained. When the lines were over and her feet continued to still hurt, like a traitor, she almost sighed. It was over. The communication issues were somewhat present as certain expressions weren't neatly translated, but Noelle understood and spoke well. The only thing she had to do was get her bags. Her bags. Her sweet, heavy, clothes-filled bags. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Oh, hell. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>An hour later, and Noelle, balancing several suitcases in an airport-supplied cart, contemplated asking someone for help. She really needed it. She was weak, sweating slightly from exertion and went on a slow pace. </p><p> </p><p>She saw someone else pass by with their cart a white, balding man, whistling as he walked by with the same amount of suitcases she had on hers. No stress showed itself on his face, and he was going sufficiently faster than Noelle. </p><p> </p><p>The increasing urge to ask for help died pitifully, screaming for its mother. Her muscles also cried for some mercy, but that was a different story. </p><p> </p><p>After what seemed like miles of walking, groaning, and panting, she finally got to the entrance of the meeting area. A large doorway stood in front of her, propped open. A small amount of people walked through it, the airport being late at night, and they walked past Noelle as she stopped. Bag in tow, there, she truly recognized that she was in France. The signs outside were French first, and the comfortable tones of English had vanished into foreign accents. <em>France, </em>without her parents or vipers or any other people that can tear her down. She allowed herself a small smile, moving among the crowd of people that always seemed to surround her. The brief moment of giddiness gave her a small amount of energy as she passed through. </p><p> </p><p>There was a small group of people clumped up beyond the entrance, waiting in an open area filled with grey hues, coffee shops, and chairs. Only 1 pair held a sign, a flowery font with the name, "Noelle".</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Wait, two people? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Beyond the clump of people, Noelle focused on the pair with a sign. An older Asian woman, one highly reminiscent of her mother, smiled as she saw her. Aunt Elmira. She must've recognized her. Next to her, was a slightly shorter girl with brown skin and dark hair clumped up on her head in surprisingly well-done space buns. What was more surprising was the alien glasses she had on, extending out her face through its sides, looking sharp enough to poke holes in balloons. She followed Aunt Elmira's gaze, and smiled at Noelle, arm shooting up in a wave. </p><p> </p><p>Noelle got a vaguely bad feeling, a premonition. Her eyes shot towards the gaudy windbreaker that the girl had, contrasting the smart button-up blouse her aunt wore, and the <em>really </em>mischievous grin on both of their faces. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>This might've been a bad choice. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>there are some differences in Noelle's character that I want to emphasize a lot here: </p><p>this is meant to be canon-divergence, where diya and min move away to France for different reasons. childhood friends are gone, so I've taken some creative liberties with her character and how she would react. main thing here: she uses happy, illogical tv shows to search for happy memories that she had when she was with them. </p><p>Past memories are meant to be fully revealed as the story goes on, but if I wrote it right then there's no issue guessing who it is based on the first chapter. </p><p>Some other stuff, about her social life and emotions: I'm making Noelle more...emotionally stunted than canon. Her denial towards any fun or non-fluffy feelings to herself will be apparent, but less so. In front of others, she would definitely do so, but to herself, she would likely know more. Because there's simply more happening with her (or my iteration of her, at least), she can't deny it to herself as much. I'm also making additional changes to her character within reasonable means. If anyone objects with certain characterizations or reasoning, then please let me know.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>